


Anger Issues Are *Mostly* Unbecoming

by Lily_Hatch



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fluff and Humor, Future Fic, Gen, POV Sherlock Holmes, Sherlock Holmes is Bad at Feelings, kind of crack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-08
Updated: 2017-09-08
Packaged: 2018-12-25 07:21:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12030966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lily_Hatch/pseuds/Lily_Hatch
Summary: Something has been bothering Sherlock for years. Now that John has moved in with him for the second time, Sherlock is compelled to ask for clarification.





	Anger Issues Are *Mostly* Unbecoming

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [This House No Longer Feels Like Home.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12025563) by [Geek_in_progress](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Geek_in_progress/pseuds/Geek_in_progress). 



Sherlock hadn't noticed it the first time he had re-entered the flat after his "fall". He isn't shocked by the information slipping past him: he was focused on other things at the time. Now though, after passing it by for years and silently attempting to deduce the possible reasons for its existence, he finally feels he has to know. 

“John?” he asked, as casually as he dared.  
Sherlock knew John could tell when he was hiding something, but contrary to what John seemed to think, habits were what kept Sherlock human. 

“Hmm? What is it Sherlock?” 

“How did the Jam get on the wall?” 

At first he was confused. The immediate puckering of his brows extenuating the lines of his forehead, the consequential rubbing to help alleviate the mild headache caused from thinking too quickly. “What?” He asked smartly. 

Sherlock motioned towards the aforementioned wall. “Jam,” he repeated. Sherlock watched as dawning apprehension blossomed, followed quickly by panic, reluctance, and resignation. 

“I was angry,” was all he said. 

Sherlock could see it clearly. The ugly red splattering across the wall, the hours of cleaning required to remove the glass and the majority of sticky particles, leaving only a small trace of dried juce that no amount of scrubbing could remove. The angle from the end of the fridge door was perfect and he became frustrated with himself for not putting it together. Of course it had been thrown. He shouldn't have dismissed the possibility just because of John's characteristically level head. And then John continued. 

“We had just buried you and I bought the Jam for you without really thinking. When I picked it up and remembered I just… I don't deal with grief well apparently.”

Sherlock frowned. “As a medicine man in the military you would have been just as privy to death as active soldiers, if not more so. The average rate of death during your combined years of servics was-” 

“I know all that!”

“I disagree. Statistics are not your strong suit. Nor are dates. In fact just yesterday you allowed the milk to expire because you confused this month for next.”

“That's not the same! Why didn't you throw out the milk?”

“I can't be bothered with domestic house-cleaning I know you will attend to. Of course I noticed it was going to spoil, but I found it fascinating and decided to count how long it would take you.” 

John was silent. 

“74 hours and 11 seconds if you were curious.”

“Sherlock.”

That was his I'm-upset-with-you-voice, but after discovering that John wouldn't substantially hurt him even after the Reichenbach fiasco, Sherlock wasn't particularly concerned. 

“It wasn't the same,” John said quietly. The words slipping past easily, albeit ruefully, from his lips. 

Sherlock felt dizzy, like he had hit the pavement too hard for his delicate frame, but none of his physical circumstances really warranted such a response. He wasn't even sure what to make of it. Admitting that his roommates (fake) suicide had affected him differently than the deaths he had suffered during his time in Afghanistan wasn't a confession by any means, but it certainly meant something. Sherlock had to process this information.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this thing in the middle of the night and decided to post it without Beta. Like many of my fics, it wouldn't have seen the light of day otherwise. Please feel free to contact me with any questions or concerns.
> 
>  
> 
> And of course this Author's Note wouldn't be complete without the very boring disclaimer everyone scrolls past. "Sherlock" is in no way mine and all rights are reserved for it's respective owners. I have not received any form of compensation for this story: It is purely for the pleasure and benefit of weirdos. This fic was loosely based on "This House No Longer Feels Like Home." By Geek_in_progress.


End file.
